Growing Darkness
by OliOli1923
Summary: An angst-filled alternate ending to "Legacy of the Force: Inferno" by Troy Denning.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars (if I did, Anakin Solo would be alive)

* * *

Pain.

It wasn't burning or aching. It wasn't stinging or tingling. It was pure, unadulterated misery. I was brought to the limits of sanity, then dragged over that line. It was a struggle to maintain knowledge of anything other than the current beat of agony I was feeling. That's why, when I heard the voice in my head, I didn't know if it was really there. The voice broadcast itself over the noise of the pain, loudest in my left shoulder, stretching muscle. "Ben," I heard, not through my ears, but echoing in my mind. I wanted to ignore it, but it was focused on getting my attention.

"What are you?" I said silently, not aloud because I feared if I opened my mouth my jaw would break.

"Reach out with the Force, and you will know." I really wasn't up to playing mind games with this thing. I wasn't exactly feeling up to it today.

"The Force has forsaken me," I thought, a new level of sorrow rising within me. "There is no Force here."

"The Force is still all around you. You just cannot touch it." I would have rolled my eyes if I could have. "I am your namesake."

"Ke-Kenobi," I whispered, in the quietest voice you could imagine, as a fresh gust of pain attacked my chin. In any other situation, I would have asked some questions, investigated, tried to figure out if it was really him. As far as I knew, Kenobi hadn't appeared to anyone in more than a decade. But I just believed what he told me. I had nothing to lose and, it seemed, nothing to gain.

"Remember, Ben. Hate is of the Dark Side." And as quickly as he had come, Kenobi was gone.

It was like he had been reading my thoughts for the last hour or two. Hate is of the Dark Side. Some of those old Jedi phrases did not make sense. I'm fine with hate being of the Dark Side. If it is taken at surface value, I could understand. However, it isn't in my nature to leave it at that. I had to dig deeper.

If hate is Dark, then I shouldn't hate. If hate is Dark, then love is Light. Jedi are supposed to be Light, so I should love everything. I can't do that though. That isn't even logical. No one can be completely on the Light Side. How much of a gray area is there between Light and Dark? Which begged the unspoken question: Does the Force have sides? Continuous slashes of pain came against my ribs, interrupting my already shaky train of thought. It took a minute for me to get used to this new level of agony before I could continue dissecting a problem I knew I'd never solve.

Kenobi had come to remind me to not give in to my hate, but he had just made things worse. Why shouldn't I give in to my hate? I would risk the Dark Side if it meant this pain would end. I would risk the Dark Side if I could kill Jacen Solo.

I accepted my hate; it would fuel me, give me energy. I would give anything to assure the Jacen's death. Jacen Solo killed my mother, and he would pay for it.

"I'm done, Colonel. I'm ready." A bluff.

"Excuse me, Ben?" He replied, but he knew what I meant. He could feel it through the Force. Any hints of my deceit would be masked by a flaming anger.

"That's what this is all about, right? You need an apprentice. No one could save my mother from you. I'm finished with the Jedi. There's nothing left for me anywhere.

"Interesting logic," he said, not explaining what was so 'interesting' about it. I couldn't tell if he was buying this. There was no reason not to. Being in the Embrace as long as I had (it was difficult to keep track of time during torture, but it had to have been many hours) could break anyone.

"You might as well release me. I don't even care about the pain anymore. It won't change things, one way or the other." Jacen, having personal experience with the Embrace, hopefully understood what I meant. This part of my bluff wasn't fake. No amount of pain would change the fact that I was going to kill Jacen.

For lack of better words, Jacen turned the Force back on. It was a helpful skill to learn, shutting down someone's Force sensitivity. Maybe one day I could figure it out for myself. Jacen wouldn't be here to teach me.

I took my hate and anger and molded it with strength and resolve. I felt..._Dad_? He was a little late for a rescue, but I guess it was better than nothing. I should have felt shock from Jacen, who would soon recognize Luke Skywalker's Force presence, but after about half a minute of fiddling to get out of the Embrace of Pain, Jacen was still silent and smirking, physically and mentally. The presence was outside the door and I guessed my dad was hiding from Jacen in the Force. I tried to cover the fact that I had noticed a vibroblade on the deck a few meters away from me. That had to be some sort of trick. It was all too easy.

I saw a figure in the doorway, my dad's silhouette. I managed to stifle my emotions, so Jacen would continue unaware.

In a few moments, Dad was standing behind Jacen, and I heard the tell-tale _snap-hiss_ of a green blade. Jacen whirled around, sensing and hearing the danger, too late, and ignited his lightsaber.

This was my only chance. Hate overflowed as I mentally told the blade to lift from the ground and sail towards a distracted Jacen Solo. The knife entered the upper left side of his chest, a clean thrust into the heart.

No strategy, no painstakingly planned Jedi or government plot, was involved in the murder of Colonel Jacen Solo. Just a boy, a seemingly forgotten vibroblade, and a little help from what was undeniably the Dark Side of the Force. This was the day I felt my own inner Dark Side beginning to expand.


End file.
